


The Long Road

by randomalia (spilinski)



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied Relationships, Loneliness, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 10:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4218303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spilinski/pseuds/randomalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't as though he thought Hornblower wasn't coming back. They'd spent a long time together, enough for Bush to know what his friend would want, even if he wasn't there to request it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long Road

**Author's Note:**

> This was for quigonejinn, who makes fandom a cracktastic, creative place. :> I'm pretty sure I stole some of this directly from her.
> 
> Bush/Maria, and strongly implied Bush/Hornblower. Uses some elements of Crisis.

Long months had passed, almost half a year, since Hornblower left on a mission he had refused to speak about. Bush found it was on his mind too much, more as the time continued to pass and there was still no word, but he held no sway with admirals and the only other place he could gain interesting news was from those at the other end of the line, the type that liked to talk and could be found in any portside town. He never sought it out -- Hornblower would have wanted to string him up for that -- but he knew enough to realise it was probably spying his old captain had been sent off to do. One night when he stopped over in Portsmouth he shared an ale with an officer from the _Clyde_ , who said there was diplomacy and then there was spying, and France was the place for only one of 'em. Bush had turned his head at some uproar from the card tables and kept from answering, but later he stood at the docks and thought about France and what Frogs did to men like that.

Almost half a year, and the next time Bush travelled in to Portsmouth to pick up his half-pay he called in Driver's Alley. The lady's eyes had lit up for a moment which made Bush wish he hadn't come, and somewhere behind her the little one was squalling. She had manners, though, Hornblower's wife, and so she invited him in only a beat after her face fell, saying he couldn't stand out there in such miserable weather.

It wasn't as though he thought Hornblower wasn't coming back. They'd spent a long time together, enough for Bush to know what his friend would want, even if he wasn't there to request it.

So he sat in a warm room and Mrs Hornblower talked of Little Horatio and ships coming in to port; she always made sure to get a copy of the _Chronicle_ and read it through. Bush watched the boy grip at her skirts and hide his face. He held onto the cup Mrs Hornblower handed to him; it was small and fragile in his weathered hand, and he could imagine it breaking up under too much pressure, like wood in a storm.

*

It was different for his sisters, he reasoned. They weren't married women, they had each other, and Mama. Hornblower's wife should have someone calling on her to see if anything was needed. If anything had been heard of her husband.

*

Sometimes he suggested they walk down to the docks; sea air was good for weariness and Mrs Hornblower seemed to share this with her husband: a lack of sleep and too much to be done.

"It's very good of you to think of us, Mr Bush," she said one afternoon as they reached her step. "I'm so grateful for your kindness."

"At your service, Ma'am," he murmured, dipping his head in a bow, and looked up in time to see a blush beginning to stain her cheeks.

*

It wasn't as though he thought Hornblower wasn't coming back, because he refused to think that.

_He wouldn't tell me_ , Mrs Hornblower had said once as they watched the ships rocking softly at anchor, like horses settling at dusk. _There's not been a word from the Admiralty, of course, but I wish he had --_

It must be important work, he had replied; and she wasn't difficult to talk to, not really. Can't risk getting word out. They only choose the best for that sort of work.

She said, _I can't help but worry. I know he's ever so brave, but what would we do? Little Horatio without his father._

Things went on like this for a time, and it probably shouldn't have been a surprise, one morning when Mrs Mason had gone out and taken the child with her; but it was. It was the very strongest shock when Hornblower's wife stepped in close to him one morning, and took hold of his hand.

*

He'd never had a woman like Maria Hornblower before. She was sturdy and sweet-smelling, and wore a pale nightdress that fell to her knees. Earlier she'd tried to undress him but he made sure to do it himself, told her he could do it in half the time because of practice: all those years at sea.

He had looked at the bed where she sat waiting, her hair falling about almost-bare shoulders, and thought that Hornblower's legs were much too long for it. Whenever he slept there he must have curled around Maria so his feet weren't hanging out in cold air.

She had tilted her chin up to kiss him as he settled above her. Gripped one hand on the back of his neck in the same way he would take hold of a line. She was warm enough, the bed was warm enough, that it felt almost like being back in Kingston.

*

Hornblower did return. All of a sudden there was news: he was well and whole, and travelling from the Admiralty. A thin scrap of a boy rapped on the door and carried the important message, sticking out his hand for sixpence at the same time.

Bush had been there, visiting, lifting up Horatio from where he had been playing too close to the fire, and all the colour had drained from Maria's face when she came back into the room, unfolding the letter.

*

"I'll be returning to Chichester," Bush told Hornblower as they passed the dockyard. Hornblower nodded, his gaze on the ground, and folded his hands behind his back. They had spoken of Naval matters but not France, ships and postings but not matters of home. All the same, Hornblower said he understood Bush had been looking in on Maria and the child during his absence.

"I'm greatly obliged to you, Mr Bush," he said. "It's good to know that someone will keep them in mind, when duty takes me from home for such long instances. Truly, I can't thank you enough."

Bush had not been able to reply, but Hornblower changed the topic within the space of a breath, began talking of getting a posting, so there was no need to.

He was certain Mrs Hornblower would not say anything about the time Bush had spent with her. She was happy, so happy to have her husband back again.

*

The road back to the cottage at Chichester was monotonous and uncomfortable, but he was well accustomed to it, and he watched the passing scenery without really seeing it, swaying slightly with the rumble of the wagon wheels and the uneven road. There was nothing but hills and flat lands all around, all coloured grey in the falling gloom.

Bush had mumbled a goodbye to Maria, struggled for something useful to say to little Horatio. Hornblower had walked with Bush to where he would get the carrier's wagon, and they had shaken hands.

Bush had held on longer than he should have, but there was always a difficulty in letting some things go, and the only thing to do was to get on with what life gave you.


End file.
